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IN 
THE WILDERNESS 



BY 

JOHN T. FARE 



GRAFTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 



t * 3 tV 



Copyright 1913 

by 

JOHN T. FARE 

Los Angeles, California 



©CLA333485 



"In My Father's House are Many Mansions, if it 
were not so, I would have told you." 

—John 14; 2. 



To the Memory of the Mother 
who taught her lisping child to 
pray, this book is respectfully 
dedicated. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 

i. 

The Azure Fields were veil'd as with a 

dew; 
The Meadow-cups were lost to mortal 

view ; 
The silvery Lake lent not its wonted 

light, 
For Gloom had stretch'd her canopy — 

'twas Night. 

ii. 

And Silence strange — as if the pulse of 

Time 
Had ceased, and Neverness was in its 

prime, — 
Did reign ; and reigning augur'd things 

to be; 
Things felt — by what? Ah! that's the 

mystery. 



8 IN THE WILDERNESS 

III. 

But soon the calm was rent by clanging 
sound. 

And voice was heard to make the hills 
resound 

With cry for light unto the House of 
Brain — 
List, list ! The cry it doth repeat again. 

IV. 

"Within, within, kind friend, within, I 
say! 

A child along life's path hath lost its 
way. 

I search for Light, if thou His servant 
be, 

Direct my path. Who, where, and what 
is He?" 



IN THE WILDERNESS 9 

V. 

"Direct my path !" Indeed a prattling 

tongue 
Hath struck full hard upon the mental 

gong, 
And broke the peace. Wake, wake and 

cease to nod; 
The child doth answer seek : Who — what 

is God? 

VI. 

Tis cried full oft that the All-Good— the 

Just, 
Made man in His own image from the 

dust ; 
And that the dust He chose from 

Mother Earth 
Did faulty prove, and we've been damn'd 

from birth. 



10 IN THE WILDERNESS 

VII. 

Wake, wake and lean to thought, and err 
no more. 

Go think of all who have gone on be- 
fore, 
Whose lives had been one endless liv- 
ing fear 

Of Hell's torments for those they held 
most dear. 

VIII. 

Methinks no Dives cried with parching 

tongue 
For water, while the lambent flames 

among, 
More loud than they will who with fear 

imbue 
Their fellow-man with song of "Chosen 

few." 



IN THE WILDERNESS 11 

IX. 

The "Chosen few"? The chosen are the 
whole, 

The images of Truth — of Life's true 
soul; 

And one in all, and all in one com- 
bine 

As radiating rays of Light Divine. 

x. 

Aye, rays; each one an offspring of the 
Just, 

A heavenly guest within a House of 
dust, 

Oh, care it well, it is the ever Thee ! 

Neglect it — and thine own deformer 
be. 



12 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XI. 

I never gaze upon a cripple shorn 

Of power but what my breast with grief 
is torn. 

The Me therefore I'd care; for this I 
know, 

That death is birth — and we have far to 
go. 

XII. 

So let us gather in this Error's thought, 

And place it on the altar where 'twas 
wrought ; 

Then in the shadow of the Cross we'll 
stand 

And watch the temple fall — 'twas built on 
sand. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 13 

XIII. 

The Barque we've piloted full many a 
year 

With helm lash'd hard aport with thong 
of fear; 

And in a circle it hath ever sail'd, 

But haven sought for we have never 
hail'd. 

XIV. 

With bearings lost, with Compass gone 
before, 

We tremble at the sound of breakers' roar. 

"See, see, the path ! Here footsteps 
mark the sea: 

The Saviour pass'd this way from Gal- 
ilee !" 



14 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XV. 

The breakers of the There are far from 
Here; 

The Here is but the Where of Truth 
held dear. 

The There doth not exist to Mind Su- 
preme ; 

The Here is Now, the Now is ever green. 

XVI. 

For God is Love, and Love is Life Di- 
vine; 

He breathed the breath of Life, and life 
is thine; 

And being thine it is the inner Thee; 

And being mine it is the inner Me. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 15 

XVII. 

That convoluted loom we call the 
brain, 

With which we daily weave our bolt of 
pain, 

Was made the shuttle of sweet Peace 
to> run ; 

The shuttle's thread of Grace — by God 
was spun. 

XVIII. 

But from a flax we've spun a faulty 
twine 

To feed the cop from which the comb 
to line, 
Until the old machine cries out, 
"Enough ! 

I've wrought too long with your sepul- 
chral stuff. 



16 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XIX. 

"The warp of Error's thought hath 

strain'd the beam ; 
My shuttle it hath lost its heavenly 

gleam, 
And bears a nap from out a dusty 

store ; 

'Twould see the smile of God. Enough 

— no more !" 

xx. 

His smile? Aye, smile. For dark indeed 

is day 
When light is low and Griefs old tent 

of gray 
Is pitch'd, and tears flow. But there is 

light: 
Peep through its rents — His stars with 

smiles are bright. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 17 

XXL 

Methinks, the Barque — of which I yet 
have spake — 

Could float full well, and leave within its 
wake 

A troubled stream, upon the briny- 
tears 

That Sorrow's eyes have shed in bygone 
years. 

XXII. 

Upon my window's pane a tear I see ; 

It runs — now stops as if in fear; may- 
be 

It is in search of some familiar eye 

With whom it made its home in years 
gone by. 



18 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XXIII. 

Perhaps 'twas in some saintly cloister- 
cell, 

Where devotee her matin beads did 
tell, 
That it sought freedom from a pious 

orb 

To join with Prayer that doth all grief 

absorb. 

XXIV. 

Aye, join with Prayer, that messenger of 

man 
That to the Throne of Grace, since time 

began, 
Hath borne our soul-thoughts ; tho'ts, 

oft frank'd with tears, 
That have return'd with Peace to still 

our fears. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 19 

XXV. 

Our fears? The seed within a shadow's 
pod! 

Hath Clay ta'en on the potency of God 

And turned Artisan? The light turn 
on : 

The pod is broken and the seed is gone. 

XXVI. 

The light turn on? From where, and 

when, and how? 
The smile of God illumes the ever Now. 

Turn on the. light ! Effect go rule the 
cause ! 

The cause, and whence came it? Divine 
Mind knows. 



20 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XXVII. 

The great Omnipotent, Omniscient He ! 

The Omnipresent One to Thee and Me, — 

But for the Dust that keeps our vision 
bound 

In darkness, true unto the Mother 
Ground, — 

XXVIII. 

He knows. And will He hold us free 

from guile 
Who help to make the Garment in a 

style 
To hide the True — that He Himself had 

wrought, 

And make shade substance, and the Sub- 
stance naught? 



IN the: wilderness 21 

XXIX. 

That speck of dust that in the ray of 

light 
Is ever seen in borrow'd garments dight, 

We'd turn into a beam of woeful 
note; 

The heavenly ray we'd thrust inside the 
mote. 

xxx. 

That which is, is, and will be so for 
aye; 

And being so it cannot pass away. 

For all things made were made by the 
All Wise; 

All else is shadow, from which errors 
rise. 



22 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XXXI. 

He knows : The Father of the father, 

He; 
The Lord of lords who made the perfect 

Thee. 
The perfect Me? The me that is, is 

what? 
A shell — a shadow by a Shade begot. 

XXXII. 

Aye, by a Shade that sprang from False- 
hood's thought ; 

Begot in darkness, and by Darkness 
wrought ; 
A semblance of a something that is 
naught, 

That from the land of Nothingness was 
brought. 



in the: wilderness 23 

XXXIII. 

The shell? Oh, rend its portals open 
wide, 

As was the tomb from which the Cru- 
cified 

In all His glory came ; and see the 
Man, 

The perfect Man, as when the world be- 
gan. 

XXXIV. 

» 

I scarce e'er listen to the ocean's roar, 

Or see the waves in anger lash the shore y 

But what, methinks, I see Golgotha 
sway 

And rend itself — as on the Passion-day. 



24 in the; wilderness 

XXXV. 

Or watch the heaving of its troubled 
breast. 

When fleck'd with foam from off its tear- 
ful crest, 
But what I see on lip the spumy stain, 

And hear the Magdalene's cry of pain. 

XXXVI. 

And when the spray doth hap to touch 
my lip, 

As from the savor'd nebule I do sip, 

Into my breast a kindly solace flows ; 

Perhaps it was His tear — who knows, 
who knows. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 25 

XXXVII. 

His tear, and brought by sobbing winds 
from mound 

Where Error's ashes mark'd the whited 
ground 

That lay in shadow of that veil of woe 
The angels rent when Dust was in its 
throe. 

XXXVIII. 

Aye, in deep throe was Garment of the 
Man, 

A Garment wrought when world of Dust 
began ; 

By Adam to his offspring 'twas be- 
queath'd, 

And all have worn, and wearing it have 
grieved. 



26 in the: wilderness 

XXXIX. 

'Tis writ that Judas fell and bowels 

spew'd 
Upon the ground. Methinks the Saviour 

hued 
The very spot with crimson from the 

side 
That knew the spear ere He scarce yet 

had died. 

XL. 

And as the stream gush'd forth from out 

the Fount 
A quaking dread possess'd the skull-clad 

mount, 
And with its fearful bosom's heaving 

waves 
It waked the dead — who left their tainted 

graves. 



IN the: wilderness 27 

XLI. 

Oh, better far had Judas ne'er been born 

Than till the Dust that gave to life a 
thorn, 

Whose cruel teeth were pointed as with 
steel, 

To rend the brow that bore the Heavenly 
Seal. 

XLII. 

Methinks I see the passion'd face of Love, 

With pleading look, turn to the heavens 
above, 

And cry, ere yet His eyes were lost to 
view, 

"Father, forgive! They know not what 
they do." 



28 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XLIII. 

"Father, forgive!" With pity's soulful 
cry 

He pleaded for mankind with Life on 
high. 

That prayer divine let memory sacred 
keep, 

For with the plea on tongue He went to 
sleep. 

XLIV. 

Oh, glorious morn that saw the Saviour 
rise 

A victor o'er the tomb where Error lies ! 

And in His Majesty and Truth appear 

Unto the one redeem'd — by Him held 
dear. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 29 

XLV. 

Aye, the redeem'd. The one that He had 

brought 
From out the labyrinth of Error's thought 

Into the open of the Heavenly Way, 
When cast aside as one unclean — by 
Clay. 

XLVI. 

As one unclean, a wanderer unknown 

To all save them who had with Error 
grown ; 

And in the pool of Deep Despair they 
dwell, 
A surging mass within a grieving hell. 



30 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XLVII. 

Yet from its deep comes hand in wake 

of hand 
With clawing sweep, as if to reach the 

land ; 
Like wind-sped sails — when mill is hid 

from view, 
They pass from sight — perhaps to try 

anew. 

XLVIII. 

And if perchance a one should hap to 

hit 
Upon the Rock, and creep from out the 

pit, 
Some Levite of the Dust — in Virtue's 

name, 
Will cry, "Unclean ! Unclean ! Hence 

whence you came." 



IN TH£ WILDERNESS 31 

XL1X. 

Unclean! Unclean the Clay of man's 

own kind? 
Unclean the tenement wherein the mind 
Doth dwell ? Then, like the Magdalene, 
go 

Unto the Fount — there cleansing waters 
flow. 

L. 

With Garment soil'd with frailty's earthy 
spot 

She sought the Life to free her from, the 
blot; 

And from her eyes repentant tears did 
stray 

To lave His feet— they wash'd her sins 
away. 



32 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LI. 

Methinks I see her as with tear-clad 
face 

She humbly kneels imploring Him for 
grace ; 

Imploring with that silence of despair 

That's voiced by falling tears — each tear 
a prayer. 

LII. 

And now a sound like unto wafting wings 

I hear. A heavenly sound and one that 
brings 

The thought of angels speeding down 
to greet 

A soul redeem 'd — low at the Saviour's 
feet. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 33 

LIII. 

No anger'd cry, from Him, no loathing 

look 
As from the ground the penitent He 

took ; 
But with a voice that brought to grief 

surcease 
He said, "Thy faith hath saved thee — go 

in peace." 

LIV. 

"Thy faith hath saved." Oh, would that 

child-like trust 
Were fully mine ! Then from this Shell 

of Dust 
Pd speed the webs that on its walls 

recline, 
And let the light of God in fullness 

shine. 



34 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LV. 

Methought my house in order I had 
placed, 

And from its corners all the spots erased; 

Its windows they were bright, and 
many a ray 

Of sunshine to my chamber found its 
way. 

LVI. 

Its portals knew no dust — though some 
ajar, 

And kindly visitors from out the far — 

In thought, did often come and chat 
with me 

About the heavenly Now — the Then to 
be. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 35 

LVII. 

But stranger came : I welcome gave to 
him, 

And held converse, when, lo, the light 
grew dim, 

For window's pane was veil'd with web 
of gray; 

A Spider! Ah, we all must watch and 
pray! 

LVIII. 

The garden of despair — Gethsemane, 
Did e'en the spinning Weaver know, for 
he 

A web did weave within its troubled 
shade 

That caught the passion'd tears of Him 
v/ho pray'd. 



36 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LIX. 

And with the glistening tears the webby 

shroud 
Was 'lumed e'en as a lamp to mark the 

crowd 
That writhing surged in Error's dark 

abyss, 
From which — like serpent, crept the 

Judas-kiss. 

LX. 

Aye, crept like serpent under night's deep 
shade 

To kiss the cheek of one he had be- 
tray'd ; 
For darkness is the breath that Error 
breathes, 

And breathing it, it slays whom it de- 
ceives. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 37 

LXI. 

How oft we mortals sit and strain the 
eye 

To see the work that in the lap doth lie. 

When worldly winter, with its weather- 
stain, 

Hath curtain'd out the light from win- 
dow's pane. 

LXII. 

Aye, strain to see the lines by Artist 

made, 
That we with wisdom's thread must mark 

to shade 

And fashion incorruption's Emblem 
Rose ; 

But, ah, alas ! — how oft the Cypress 
srrows. 



38 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LXIII. 

Our trembling ringers, with their coats 
of stain 

Drawn by the temper'd needle's point, 
would gain, 

By labor — foreign to all rest, the bread 

To feed the that with which the worms 
are fed. 

LXIV. 

And in our haste and deep forgetful- 

ness, 
The sop for That within grows daily 

less, 
Until the larder proves an empty bowl 

With ne'er a crumb to feed the hunger'd 
Soul. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 39 

LXV. 

Methinks I hear the man-wrought needle 
cry — 

"Why thrust your flimsy thread into my 
eye? 

You start with pain if I your finger 
wound ! 

Then why not I? Your logic is unsound. 

LXVI. 

" 'Tis said that you from common dust 
were made, 

From dust that Time amid the dust had 
laid, 

And that an artisan of standing high 

Did draw you forth. Well, cousin — so 
was I." 



40 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LXVII. 

Each day we meet with kindred long 
unknown, 

As o'er this sand-dune by the winds we're 
blown ; 
We meet them here, and then we meet 
them there, 

In fact, like dust, we meet them every- 
where. 

LXVIII. 

And one and all seem foreign to the 

place, 
And wavering stand — as if they would 

retrace 
Their steps, then speed to left and then 

to right, 
Again to left, and then — alas! 'tis Night. 



IN the: wilderness 41 

LXIX. 

Oh, blessed He who did in ages gone 

Reverse the stone that mark'd the path- 
way wrong! 

A path that's led us to this dusty plain, 

Far from the land of Light that we would 
gain. 

LXX. 

But mortal eyes inured to shade of 
night, 

That we would turn unto the heavenly 
light, 

Are, in their weakness, blinded by its 
ray, 

And we still need His voice to lead th<? 
way. 



42 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LXXI. 

For Love's bright beams arise on every 

side 
That marks the Narrow Path, that in the 

Wide— 

Where whirlwinds dance with dust, 

whose revelry 
Is cradled in its grave — we never see. 

LXXII. 

And in our mazy state we're prone to read 

The signs and symbols — that are placed 
to lead, 

From right to left, until, some late, we 
learn 

That we're astray, and know not where 
to turn. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 43 

LXXIII. 

Full many a morn we've seen, whose 
winning smile 

Hath drawn us far afield with witching 
guile, 

That did o'ersoon upon us turn with 
lash 

Of wind and rain midst laughing thun- 
der's crash. 

LXXIV. 

For through the lenses of the mortal eye 

We see the "Evening's red" when morn is 
nigh, 

And augur that the day full bright will 
be, 

And sup with Sorrow ere the night we 
see. 



44 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LXXV. 

For with the dust the wind will ever 
play 

And toss it hither, thither, everyway; 

So that the Night oft laughs and cries 
to Morn, 

"My friend, you sow'd the seed — go reap 
the thorn!" 

LXXVI. 

Seed — Error sown! The dead harvest the 

dead! 
Whence came this seed — in what pod 

was it bred? 
Its spark of life, from what source was 

it drawn? 
Not from the mouth of God. Then hence 

the soawn. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 45 

LXXVII. 

For life— eternal, true, was breathed by 

Love 
To fill all space— the Here, the There 
above ; 
And filling space the Omnipresent He 
Hath made all one by heavenly alchemy. 

LXXVIII. 

And being one the smile of the Divine 
Within my neighbor as myself doth shine ; 
And shining it reflects the living Light, 
The Light that knows no darkness of the 
Night. 



46 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LXXIX. 

And from it flows an ever pulsing stream 

Of love to heal the ills of life's false 
dream ; 

And healing, leaves the Man — as He 
had wrought, 

An offspring of Himself — a perfect 
Thought. 

LXXX. 

But as the running waters pass from 

sight 
Beneath the stratum that impedes their 

flight, 
So in the long ago love's stream ran 

low 
Beneath the bank of Sin where Sorrows 

grow. 



IN the: wilderness 47 

LXXXI. 

And all was dark until the heavenly 
One, 

Whose lowly birth the guiding star shone 
on, 

Did rend the brank Cimmerian full wide 

With light of Truth — and rending bruised 
His side. 

LXXXII. 

And from the light did radiate a beam 

Of love that brought unto the blind the 
gleam 

Of day; and in the sorrowing house of 
death 

It brought unto the dead a living breath. 



48 IN THE WILDERNESS 

LXXXI1I. 

And for the lost illumed the sought-for 

way, 
And gently led the ones who had astray 

In darkness gone, back to the path of 
peace, 

Where flowers grow, and sorrow finds 
surcease. 

LXXXIV. 

Methinks I hear Bethesda's arched 
vault 

Give echo to the cries of blind and 
halt; 

Cries from the past that do its curtain 
raise, 

And on the scenes of long ago I gaze. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 49 

LXXXV. 

I see the crippled, palsied — youth and age, 

Of life's great tome a torn and tatter'd 

page, 

Each one intent on leaping in the tide 

Ere doth the stricken brother at his side. 

LXXXVI. 

Each with an eye or ear attuned to catch 
The moment when the troubled water's 

latch 
Shall rise, and portal open for the guest, 
Whose touch to faith-clad brings a heal- 
ing rest. 



50 in the: wilderness 

LXXXVII. 

While on a pallet, near the pool, there 
lies 

A palsied form — full old, who ever cries, 

"Oh, for the love of God, come aid me 
lend 

To water's edge, ere angel does des- 
cend!" 



LXXXVIII. 

And cry in vain? No, not in vain; for 
he 

Did sup from cup of loving sympathy 

And rise renew'd — free from all ill and 
care, 

At Life's command — for Christ was there. 



IN THE WILDERNESS 51 

LXXXIX. 

And in the Now as in the Then the same 

Light glows to lead the fallen, blind and 
lame; 
And glowing, lights the pathway to the 
Gate, 

Where they who have gone on do us 
await. 

xc. 

And o'er its archway, writ in rubied hue, 

The Master's call — for all, not for the few, 

"All ye who toil and are with grief 
oppressed, 

Come unto Me and I will give YOU 
rest/' 



52 IN THE WILDERNESS 

XCI. 

And that is Love. His message it is 
thine, 

'Twas Magdalene's — Mary's — and 'tis 
mine, 

And comes as manna did in ages past, 
So that our hnnger'd souls may break 
the fast. 



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BINDERY INC. 



fc DEC 88 

N. MANCHESTER, 
INDIANA 46962 





